


November Rain

by katalizi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Philinda - Freeform, philinda bad days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katalizi/pseuds/katalizi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Philinda Bad Days. Prompt - 'Phil gets rained on'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	November Rain

If there was one sensation Phil Coulson hated the most, it was the sensation of water squelching inside soaked shoes, something he had to endure with every step he took as he walked through the darkened and empty hallway leading to his room at the Academy. But at that moment that awful, waterlogged feeling was overwhelmed by exactly how cold he was. It was bad doing laps as a punishment, and it was even worst to be doing them on a rainy November night. Running in circles for two hours had kept his core temperature up for a while, but once he’d been released for that torture the icy water that had soaked him all the way through had left his feet and hands feeling like blocks of ice, his face numb and he was now so cold that he’d progressed from chattering teeth to less frequent but more violent tremors that shook his body every now and then.

He dimly wondered if Agent Williams had crossed some sort of line with his choice of discipline. Surely S.H.I.E.L.D. agents didn’t intentionally try to put new cadets in the infirmary? Phil snorted. Who was he kidding? Getting new cadets aquatinted with the infirmary was exactly how training went down at the Academy.

When he reached his door, he was so cold he could no long co-ordinate his limbs properly, his hands slow moving and heavy as they tried to insert the key into the lock. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal a wide eyed Melinda May standing in the darkness of his room, and before the word ‘What?’ could even form on his lips she had grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauled him inside, and locked the door behind them.

The only light in the room came dimly from his one window, the rain still beat steadily against it as every now and then a low rumble of thunder murmured in the distance. Phil squinted in the low light at the shadowed shape that was Melinda, a million thoughts tumbling through his head. She quickly let go of his shirt and reached down to grab at his hands, both of them hissing as her hot skin came into contact with his freezing fingers.

“God, you’re like ice!” she exclaimed, her hold instantly tightening on his hands as she tried to push some of her warmth into him. “Why didn’t you go straight to the showers and heat up?”

Oh. He didn’t even think of that. Slowly, he managed to force out the words, “I’m sick of being wet.”

Melinda tsked, and grabbing him by the shoulders directed him to his desk chair where she sat him down before closing the curtain on the window and turning the lights on. Phil closed his eyes against the glare and realised that even though he was now soaking his chair, he really couldn’t find it in him to care. Eyes still closed he managed to ask, “How did you get into my room?”

“We’re training to be spies, Phil.” He could almost hear her eye roll. He could actually hear her going through his things but, as with the chair, he didn’t really care.

“Why were you waiting in the dark?”

“Because it’d be pretty stupid to light up a room no-one’s supposed to be in.” There was a pause and when Melinda spoke again the annoyed edge in her voice had been replaced by something else. “Phil? Phil, open your eyes.”

At first Phil didn’t want to respond to this command. He was sleepy, the muscles in his legs hurt, the light above was too bright. But a sudden heat flared up against his cheeks as he felt Melinda cup his face and his eyes snapped open to find her now only inches away from him. She looked worried. It took him a few more moments to realise that she was worried about him. Phil felt his heart do something funny inside his chest as a very strange, almost scary feeling started to form. He almost knew what this was, could almost put a name to it … but he was cold. He was soaking wet and freezing cold and he just couldn’t focus on what was happening and what he was feeling and everything was just too confusing. He was confused. But … Melinda could help him out, right?

“Melinda …?”

Though he said her name very softly it seemed to push her back to action. “We need to get these wet clothes off,” she said briskly, dropping her hands from his face and instead tackling his swollen shoes. “And then we’ve got to get you into bed.”

“Good, I’m tired,” muttered Phil as he halfheartedly tried to peal his shirt over his head, succeeding only after the third try.

“No, you’re not going to sleep,” said Melinda, and Phil fought back the urge to whine like a child. “We need to heat you up, fast.” After some determined tugging she managed to free his feet from his awful shoes, throwing them and the socks into the corner where his shirt soon joined them. Phil glanced down at his feet and swallowed. They looked almost grey and he was sure they would definitely start hurting when sensation returned to them.

Melinda stood, grabbed a towel from his bed, and before he could prepare himself she’d thrown it over his head and started vigorously rubbing at his wet hair as if he was a dog straight out of a bath. He griped onto the seat and tried not to laugh out loud at that image, but as soon as she dropped the towel there was no way she could miss his huge grin. She frowned at this, but Phil could see the sparkle in her eyes. “And I don’t know what you’re smirking about when you’re this close to being a human icicle.” She tucked the towel around his shoulders and turned her back. “Dry yourself, change, and get into bed.”

“God, you’re bossy,” moaned Phil, knowing that one remark was going to cost him later, but too cold to care.

He stripped off the remaining of his wet clothes and changed into new dry boxers, crawling under the covers as soon as possible. But even with layers of blankets above him he still didn’t feel warm, couldn’t even get warm as his body wasn’t radiating heat as it normally did. He turned to face Melinda and then froze - figuratively, this time.

Melinda May was stripping off her clothes.

“Wha … what the hell are you doing?”

She dumped her clothes on the floor and turned to face him in nothing but her smalls, hands on hips. “What do you think? You’re hypothermic, Phil, and shared body warmth is the best way to get someone’s temp back up. So scooch.” And without preamble she switched off the bedroom light, flipped the covers back and slide into bed with him, tucking the sheets in securely around them. And then she paused.

They were both laying on their sides, facing each other, only inches away but still not touching. For the longest moment the two of them did nothing, simply stared at each other across the pillow. Already he could feel warmth coming off Melinda’s body in waves, but it all seemed to wash against him and vanish in an instant as the shivering continued at random intervals. Then Melinda’s mouth tightened and she wriggled closer, both of them moaning uncomfortably as her hot touch came into contact with his own cold and clammy skin.

“Roll over,” she instructed, pushing gently at his shoulder. “Let’s try to keep the awkwardness to a minimum, shall we?”

“What awkwardness?” grunted Phil as he turned over in the most ungainly fashion. “There’s nothing awkward about having to be looked after like a child — ah!”

As soon as he was on his other side Melinda pressed up firmly against his back, one arm curling around his chest to hold him to her, her feet tangled up in his. Phil felt the shock of warmth reverberate through his body and instinctively tried to move closer to it.

“God, you’re freezing!” gasped Melinda.

“Sorry …” He started to pull away from her but was held back by her vice like arm over his chest.

“Oh no, Phil Coulson. I’ve never been kicked out of anyone’s bed before and you sure as hell aren’t going to be the first.”

“This has got to be the most aggressive cuddle I’ve ever received.”

“Shut up and heat up.”

For a few minutes the two of them said nothing, just lazily withered against each other. Soon, the tremors started to come more frequently and he started shivering in earnest, his breathing coming in shaky puffs as he slowly felt a soft warmth start in his chest, although his feet and hands remained numb. Behind him he could feel, in exquisite detail, Melinda pressed up against the length of him, her nose just touching his neck, her breath warm on his shoulder. He could also hear a faint, angry mutter every now and then.

“Melinda?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t think I’m not grateful, I am, really, but … are you angry with me?”

“What?” She sounded genuinely surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“I can feel you fuming.”

“Oh …” She was quiet for a second before she continued. “I’m not angry at you. I’m furious with Williams.”

Phil frowned. “I messed up, I was in the wrong. Doing laps is no big deal.”

“Doing laps at night in the freezing rain is probably banned under the Geneva Convention!” said Melinda. He didn’t miss the way her arms tightened around him. “You’re probably going to get sick after this.”

“Have a bit more faith in my immune system, please,” said Phil. “Besides, I have an excellent doctor watching out for me.”

There was another paused, even longer than before, and Phil wished he could turn around so he could examine her face in the pale light. Finally, she softly replied, “I know you’d do the same for me.”

“Of course.”

More silence. Slowly the shivering faded away and even more slowly feeling started to return to his feet and hands. He couldn’t hold back occasional groans of pain as pins-and-needles buzzed in his limbs as the warmth returned, aided by Melinda’s strong hands massaging life back into the. Soon enough he started feeling warm, although he knew his skin was still cold to the touch. Still, Melinda didn’t seem to mind. Nor was she making any movement to indicate that she wanted to leave. The rain continued to tap against the window, although the thunder had faded out of existence.

“Melinda?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He could just feel the slightest brush of her lips against his shoulder blade as she smiled. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely nothing to do with the song, but now I feel that might be a missed opportunity ...


End file.
